


Treat you right

by Anonymous



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff and Smut, Genderfluid Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:48:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25011901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Travis wants to scream, because hello? How does some old fucker - probably with liver spots and a fat pension plan - get someone like Nolan.Nolan, who will turn up at Travis' apartment in the kind of outfits that cost more than his rent for the entire first quarter, then spends any post-coital time in Travis' camo shirt and a single sock, or Travis' sweater, or whatever he steals from the laundry pile. Nolan - who pretends to be so hard to read - then barely contains an eye roll when his neglectful, absent husband calls.Travis grits his teeth. It's whatever.
Relationships: Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick
Comments: 13
Kudos: 96
Collections: Anonymous, The Sin Bin: A Hockey RPF Kink Meme





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for this prompt, I owe it my life. 
> 
> A little background: This is only tangentially a coffee shop au. Travis is an asshole who plagues Nolan when he frequents the place where Travis works, and eventually, his boundless charm works. neither of them are hockey players. Hope this is what you wanted!

"He's rich, boring, and old. What else do you need to know?" Nolan says, completely monotone.

Travis wants to say _everything_ , because _hello_? How does some old fucker - probably with liver spots and a fat pension plan - get someone like Nolan. _Nolan_ , who will turn up at Travis' apartment in the kind of outfits that cost more than his rent for the entire first quarter, then spends any post-coital time in Travis' camo shirt and a single sock, or Travis' sweater, or whatever he steals from the laundry pile. Nolan - who pretends to be so hard to read - then barely contains an eye roll when his neglectful, absent husband calls.

Travis grits his teeth.

His neglectful, absent husband, who loves money so much that he spends 90% of his waking time working, or talking about work, or not even so much as looking at Nolan. Cheating in the sort of frivolous way that said he cared more about numbers than anything satisfying. Getting real uneasy of Nolan dressing in the way that he likes, and -

Whatever. All he's saying is that - he's very calm about it.

It doesn't mean shit that he's a little bloodthirsty. Probably.

"Nothing." Travis says eventually, forcing himself to take a deep breath, switching the television on. "Do you want to watch _Giant lobster vs Boston_?"

(Nolan has red lines scored down his back from how he'd rode Travis, shivery and tight, begging with his face tucked into Travis neck. He'd felt so good, and his breath got all choked up when Travis said how pretty he is. There's something about it, how he acts tough, but Travis found the crack in his armour. He knows just how much pressure to apply, just the right amount of chirping and affection that Nolan just fractures and lets himself cling.)

The crescent moon shape of his nail indents on the nape of Nolan's neck are bisected by the delicate gold chain around his throat, and Travis has no idea why it makes his brain blank.

"Absolutely. Let's see it slap the shit out of Boston." 

"Right?"

"Yeah, Boston fucking sucks."

Travis fist bumps him.

"Too fucking right." He laughs, and sometimes, Nolan's eyes will crinkle up when he does. It makes Travis crazy, and when Nolan is done showering, they see half of _Boston fights Gritty_ * or whatever it was called, before they end up making out.

(When he sighs too much at work about the whole situation, Ivan will always pause making the coffee to slap him around the back of the head. He's been doing it a lot recently. Ivan will get a repetitive strain injury soon, but that's on him.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't even extra effort, and even if it had been, it'd have been worth it. Nolan looked all patchy and red when she opened it, and said *oh* real quiet. Reverent, maybe. Her hands had shaken it out, fingers brushing over how the buttons matched the fabric, a nearly seamless match to the silk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N/B: this fic doesn't have a linear plot/is instead scenes of softness from my favourite goblins

_It's she_ Nolan messaged him overnight, and Travis drags himself to the kitchen, squinting at it, because nothing makes sense at 6am. Time itself doesn't make sense at whatever "6am" is. He hates coffee shops. Everyone wants shit, his pay is shit, the customers that come in before their high-ranking business jobs? Double shit. Not even from any dietary requirements they have, just as people.

He nearly replies with _huh_ , then it clicks.

"Oh!" Travis says aloud, to nobody but his houseplants and fish. He feels weirdly humbled. It's - good.

 _Gotcha_ he sends - with 3 high five emojis - then _shit, why were you awake? Is your head okay??? Do u need anything??_

He doesn't get a reply, but he didn't really expect one. Nolan can dress _up_ up all she likes, but Travis has her number. She still lives like a college student. She'll eat a meal at 2am and sleep until it's dark again in winter, or if her migraines get bad. 

It's whatever. Does it set Travis' teeth on edge that he can't be _there_ and _look after_ her sometimes? Yeah, but he can't help that. He'll just get her a gift, and a bottle of Tylenol, and some of that soup she likes.

What he means is that he'll treat her right, if nothing else.

*

"This one?" Travis says, holding up another shirt, one of those collarless ones with tiny buttons.

Nolan squints critically, reaching out to touch it.

"Hm." She says, because she's picky as hell about fabrics. "Maybe."

Travis very proudly tucks it under his arm. The place they ended up at is like if a thrift store was stocked by rich people, for rich people, but it's not busy, and it doesn't play ear-splitting music, so it gets the okay. It's fun to learn all this shit, because then if he _does_ get Nolan something, she'll like it for sure.

Does Travis feel proud whenever that happens? He's a big enough man to admit that _yeah_ he feels good as shit. One time he'd gotten Nolan a silk blouse that went from orange at the collar and slowly faded to black. He _ironed_ that shit. He paid Ivan to wrap it up all neat, and even got the bonus of chirping him for being particular about it.

(Ivan had frowned and muttered about how his mama made him learn after he made such a terrible job of wrapping one time that she had to cut through the tape with a pen knife. Travis nearly corpsed thinking about the baby Ivan that did the garbage tape job being the same as the baby Ivan from the photo that graced the staff noticeboard. He was clutching at a fat grey cat, looking especially haunted.)

It wasn't even extra effort, and even if it had been, it'd have been worth it. Nolan looked all patchy and red when she opened it, and said _oh_ real quiet. Reverent, maybe. Her hands had shaken it out, fingers brushing over how the buttons matched the fabric, a nearly seamless match to the silk.

Travis had felt warm as shit, like when he got one of his small cousins a fire truck toy and she'd clung the entire evening, babbling excitedly about it. They're both in his top ten soft-hearted, corny, mushy moments.

It's a crash back to earth when he realises he's slow-timed things, and now he really, really is late.

*

Nolan isn't delicate, but it's not some knee jerk reaction to judgement or whatever. She's obviously more articulate about it than him, but how Travis sees it is that _sure_ , sometimes she _is_ a little soft, but she's also the one that wears hacked-off jorts and gets heat stroke from drunkenly fishing. She's the person who nearly gets sick laughing the time that she only shaves one leg, and pretends she doesn't know why Travis is having a meltdown trying to parse _why_.

It's a crude way of thinking about it. Are those even the two extremes? Fishing and what, blouses? Fuzzy legs? Wait no, _one_ fuzzy leg?

When he asks - all too earnest - Nolan's stupid eyes crinkle up so much they disappear into her dumb head.

"Oh my god." She wheezes, "Don't think too hard, please. It looks like it hurts."

*

Travis really is a dumbass, he knows that. He pictures himself staring at Nolan and it's like when cartoon characters see someone hot and their eyes bug the fuck out. He's bitter about it, is all, because just sometimes, Nolan needs to be coaxed out of a funk, and her crypt keeper husband doesn't care enough to do it.

Sometimes, she just needs to be looked after, and she isn't a natural at it, so Travis takes on the job of bullying her into it. He brushes her hair and they get takeout, eating it on the ugly rug in Travis' living room. Nolan steals half of Travis' cashew chicken, and she doesn't even complain when Travis tosses her a sweater, because she was only wearing a shirt, and the less said about the state of the heating in his apartment the better.

*

 _Thanks_ , she mumbles later, head smushed into Travis chest, and he doesn't _preen_ about it, because it isn't anything, really. He's just happy to make things softer.

**Author's Note:**

> Please stop me writing more of this. It's living rent free in my head.
> 
> Thank you for reading ❤💛💚💙💜!


End file.
